


Breaking point

by Narva



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Each chapter will have a new titular character, Family Drama, Gen, There will be warnings at the top of each chapter, after all the Finwëans are a family that does most of their drama together, also this is not pairing centric but some pairings will show up, but there'll obviously be a lot of character overlap between chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narva/pseuds/Narva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They break. One after another, they all break.</p><p>A collection of short stories about the breaking points of the Finwëans (for a measure of short, I'm not good at brevity and they'll vary in length). Right now, it is in a rough chronological order, but that may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fëanor

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Canonical character death, parental death, a fairly non-descriptive description of torture.

Fëanor is the first. He sits in the ashes, fighting down revulsion to reach out to the mangled body before him, to this heap of terrible injuries and blood, torn apart and twisted and burnt and etched and more in ways more cruel than his mind could ever have conjured up before. His fingers tremble as they slowly approach this shape that only vaguely resembles an Elf anymore and that still very clearly once was his father, once was Finwë, and he remembers how when he was very, very small still, his teacher once explained to him how he can be the firstborn of the firstborn when the Elves had been walking Arda for long before his birth: That none wished to risk a child to be without parents, should they be killed, and that in Aman blessed, this would not happen, and he laughs, bitterly and fey and terrible, and takes the seal of the High King off the mangled hand that lacks all but that one finger, knowing that Morgoth must left it unharmed on purpose.

"Morgoth", he says, finally, speaking to the unnatural seeming darkness around him as the masses of grief and shock and fright and all those other emotions find a path to thunder down like the melted snow in spring, uncaring what they will wreck on their way, "I care not what power you may hold, or what rank any have given you, Manwë or Varda or even Eru, whom I shall not call father if he abandons his children so. I care not, and I will undo you, and if it becomes the undoing of the world."

That the Silmarils have been taken only seals the deal.


	2. Ambarussa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Canonical character death

Ambarussa are the second, though they don't break at once as their father did. They break slowly, like a stick broken many times until it fits into the oven. 

They break when they have to pick between mother and father, again and again and then for an indefinite time, and it is that last decision which drives them into their first real fight, this last decision which is no decision that they can truly make, both of them torn in half by it, and as they are halves of a whole, it tears them apart as well.

But they swore, and they go. Alqualondë means nothing to them, the blood on their hands blood that they shed together and in a haze - the sooner they get the ships, the sooner all of this will be over, and the separation that has driven a wedge between their parents and between them may then be overcome. The journey North means nothing to them, but the crossing almost kills the elder, cold and the rocking of the boat out in the ocean driving his body to rebel. Ambarussa the younger does not fall ill and indeed prospers, the wind on his face fresh and crisp, the challenges of keeping a boat engineered to sail the coasts crossing an ocean demanding all his strength and wit and time, though he remains to his brother's side whenever he may. 

It is Celegorm, who comes to visit Huan who is trapped below deck due to being of no use above and has taken to taking care of the sick Fëanorion, who finally says aloud what has been hanging in the air for long: "I always thought of you as twin trees, appearing as two but truly one only, joined at the feet - yet now it seems like you do not even stand in the same forest." It is meant as a joke, certainly, yet to them it is not - it is a frightening truth, and by the time that all discuss what to do with those ships that survived the crossing, one thing has become clear to them: That they are not one anymore, and perhaps, there lies a reason in that. Perhaps by their splitting, only one is bound by the Oath any more, and the other may return; perhaps by their splitting, the whole of them may remain with both mother and father as one returns to Tirion and the other continues on. Perhaps their suddenly found differences are blessing and not curse, as they once thought.

After that, the decision is easy, though the act itself is harder: The younger will return, the older remain in Middle-earth, not being fit to travel by ship again. They will say that they wish to go on a hunt, so none will know that only half of them remains until the ships are already far out in the ocean, returning to pick up the first parts of the second host. And then the younger will return in secret and hide on board of one of the ships while the elder does as they said. 

The ships burn, and the Ambarussa scream, until there is only Amras out in the eternal night, crying in broken sobs, his body wrecked by a pain and loss that nothing could have prepared him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Tolkien was undecided on which of and how many Ambarussa died at Losgar. I'm going with one, and the one being the younger, and Amrod.


	3. Turgon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Character death, sibling/parental death, basically everyone dies. Reference to an animal's death/putting down a horse.

Turgon breaks on the ice, and Turgon breaks on the battlefield - time and time again. 

It begins with creaking ice and the moaning of tilting ice plates, and he catches the split moment in which Elenwë goes again all instincts and _lets go_ as she slides downwards. The moment in which she pushes daughter and husband away from her instead of grasping his hand more tightly, the moment in which she knows that any attempt at saving her will only kill them all with a clarity that Turgon will find only centuries later, in the roar of a burning city. It begins with a daughter clinging to him in confusion and shock as he follows her urgent scream, the power that she placed in her last words steering his feet and taking deep root in his heart. "Run away! Take Idril and run!" It begins with crashing ice and a creaking ground and panic, and a death with no body or grave.

No Elf should hate another as he hates the one whom he blames for this.

It continues when he finds Aredhel after the battle, holding their youngest brother's dying form, and though Argon is still breathing Turgon knows exactly the tone that she employs as she speaks to him - he has heard it on her before, when a terrible carriage incident injured a horse gravely enough that it would not recover and she volunteered to end its life, citing that she had done this many times before on a hunt. Heard it as she calmed the panicked animal down before the quick, clean cut that ended its suffering. Her eyes meet his when he sinks to his knees on Argon's other side, and he has never considered her stronger than now, as she keeps herself calm and soothing to grant their youngest the best passage that he may have. There is steel in her eyes as she indicates Argon's stomach to Turgon with a brief nod of her chin while at the same time her voice is gentle and caring as she tells the youngest sibling: "Turukáno is here to wish you farewell." No lies, no pretence - she spares neither of them the truth of the inevitable death of one whose stomach is torn apart like this. Even at the best of times, a healer could do little, and this is not the best of times. And yet, there lies an odd peace over the scene, in the middle of destruction and death.

This time, there is a grave, though it is a mass grave and they have to conceal it so no orc will find it. Perhaps that is as it is to be on this continent; they are all too used to death by now for the pomp and prolonged grieving periods of Tirion.

It is no battlefield but his own throne room that sees the next crack, which turns into a sharp breaking pain the next day when he looks down at yet another sibling that he held as a babe, an ocean and many years away; a sibling that burnt so bright, a beacon of hope and a free spirit like he has met few, and his heart aches as he steps forward to place a last kiss on her brow and then kneel by her son, remaining quiet for a long time before finally pulling him into an embrace - perhaps more for his own sake than for the boy's, but he is all that is left of his bright, beautiful, valiant sister.

It is almost a relief when the next body that he receives is his father's and not his last remaining brother's. He mourns his father, he grieves, and buries him next to Fingolfin's daughter; but with Idril's pale composure on one side, her eyes wide open to show no tears, her features hardened, showing strength to their subjects in the face of such great evil; with Maeglin's stoic, unreadable darkness on the other side; with those children on his sides who have known so much grief and sadness in their lives, so little safety and free happiness, there is so much more to grieve. And, he can't help thinking, at least this way Fingolfin will not be there to witness the death of his other children and his grandchildren, too.

He was right. It seems that it will have to be him who sees the ruin of his house - for his brother, his beautiful, valiant brother, so radiant, who could give hope where there was none left - he is gone, and Turgon prays that he will, at least, not have to see the next generation die as well. It is a bitter thought, but it feels almost preposterous by now to pray for their survival.

He still does. Because then, when he thinks that there is nothing that will keep his daughter's heart from turning to ice even further, a husband and a son step into her life, and joy and warmth return. Because after returning from the battlefield, he sees things change for his sister-son whom he feels about almost like a son now as well, a greater acceptance and respect being paid to him by many for him having followed his uncle into battle over becoming his regent, and careful baby steps into opening up in response. If those children that grew up much too quickly, much faster than he had to himself, were healing, slow as such a process might be, how could the Valar be so cruel to not let that process continue?

They are that cruel, one of them in particular; and when he finds himself in the Halls, he isn't sure if knowing what he does now he would have had the strength to still go on.


End file.
